Broken Wings
by Arigatomina
Summary: Yaoi, KuroFai, AU. Kurogane was tricked into catching him once. Now he just wants to hold onto him. To do that he'll have to catch him again and Fay isn't one to be caught and held. At least, not for long. A bittersweet game of hide and seek.
1. Another bar, another look

**Author's Notes:** This is an alternate universe, slight xmen references - instead of magic it's mutant powers. If you read across fandoms you'll probably recognize the "world" setting I'm using here. I use it a lot. It's very liberating. o.o;

**Broken Wings**

_Part 1: Another bar, another look_

"Who was that?"

Fay didn't look up from his drink. It was an accusation more than a question. There was anger and hurt, and a hint of suspicion because there always was.

_Did you know him? You didn't, you didn't even know him. Or maybe you did, maybe you knew him too well. Because you haven't been here long enough to know him any better. I know it wasn't Him. You wouldn't have done that, wouldn't still be here, if it were Him. So who?_

They both knew he wouldn't answer directly. He never did. He kept his eyes locked on his drink, one finger sliding over the rim of the glass and writing slick nonsense in the condensation. A slow smile spread over his lips and held firm, "No one you would know."

Silence. A few months ago he might have gotten a snort instead, maybe a growled complaint for being so evasive and careless. Now it was silence and heat. He could feel the stare, burning eyes sliding over the back of his neck and peering through his loose bangs. He would have to meet those eyes eventually. Not until he had a few more drinks, though. He'd waited for him. It was only fair that Kurogane wait for him in return.

Kurogane was going to sit down. Fay felt that and his smile lightened just a little. If he looked up now, that smile might have shown in his eyes. Just a little. It was fair of him to wait in return, but Fay hadn't really expected him to. Patience was something they'd both discarded some time ago.

"You didn't take the flight," another accusation. "Why?"

Fay lifted his cup and took a long drink from the tiny double straws. Then he waited for him to sit. Kurogane did.

"It would have been inconsiderate of me," Fay said lightly, "to board the plane right as yours was landing. You might have thought I was avoiding you."

Surely that deserved a snort, a glare, the smallest hint of a growl. He received more silence instead. And he wondered if the game weren't too old, stretched too thin, and finally ready to be snapped and severed completely. He wondered, but knew it wasn't true. Kuragane wouldn't have followed him if that were the case. Maybe he was being so silent because part of him still hoped for an honest answer. Well, just this once, then.

"I missed you," Fay smiled into his drink.

"Liar."

The smile reflected in his sky blue eyes and he finally glanced up, up and over until he could see him clearly. Kurogane looked so tired, angry and stubborn, but so very tired as well. He shouldn't hurt himself so much. Fay couldn't give him anything he needed. They both knew that. And yet here they were. Another bar, another look, and there was nothing he could do to make it better.

"Did you sleep on the plane?" asked Fay.

A sharp immediate response, "Do you care?"

"I asked," Fay smiled. Such a silly question. They both knew it was. He'd always cared, they both had, cared far too much, and that was the problem. It was that much harder to let go.

Silence, and then a quiet, "Who was that?"

"Someone far too interested in me," said Fay, as if he'd planned to tell him all along and just hadn't gotten around to it before. "Did you see the boy he had with him?"

"Ah."

"So young and yet he's killed more men than you have. He was cute, too," Fay beamed, tilting his head so the smile was flirtatious rather than smug. "If I'd met you at that age, I'd have kissed your cheek, too. There's no need to be so jealous about it."

Anger. Finally! Fay hid his relief in another long sip of his drink. He'd never known what to do with that delving silence. Those eyes looked too deeply into him and it burned, itched until he couldn't hold still any longer. He didn't want to run away just yet. Because he'd missed him. He always did.

"The kid's not the one I was talking about and you know it."

"Oh," Fay blinked and looked up in playful surprise. "Did that bother you? I was only saying goodbye. He was very polite for a stalker, so it was the least I could do."

More anger, confusion, and a hint of worry now creeping into those dark brows. Fay looked away.

He'd been worried as well. He hadn't known why that man was following him, watching him from a distance, and finally, approaching him with that child at his side, a boy that reeked of death and danger. And pain and loneliness. He'd wanted to both run from the child and stay to offer what little help he could. In the end he'd done both, he'd run from the first approach and stayed when they came looking for him a second time. He hadn't known why they'd sought him out, but he knew He would never stoop to sending a child after him. And Kurogane, well, he always came himself. It had probably never even occurred to him to send someone else in his place, someone Fay wouldn't recognize who could locate him before he was gone again. Fay liked that about him. Despite it all Kurogane was endearingly naive at times.

"What did he want?"

"Powers," Fay shrugged, his smile easing back into place. "He could duplicate them by touch. The boy could as well, though he did it by sight. They picked me out of a crowd, quite a surprise on my part. You know how I fancy myself as the sort who can disappear in public. And such scary talents they have, copying powers. I'd hate to see talents like that fall into the wrong hands."

He gave a playful shiver that was half real. They'd scared him. He'd known as soon as he spoke to them that they didn't mean him any harm, but the blood was still there, the possibilities. The boy must have already been in the wrong hands, at least once, and for some time, to have such a heavy cloud of death around him. And the man...Fay had known the second they touched that he'd had nearly as many talents as him, possibly more. He'd given him something, just to ensure he wouldn't follow him any more, but he'd picked the most harmless power he had. Something that couldn't be used to hurt. Something that maybe, if the death came stalking that boy again, would protect them both. He'd given him a shield and he hoped, if things went well for them, the man would never have reason to use it.

He'd given the power through a kiss because he'd felt Kurogane watching him from across the way. Kurogane knew that, of course. Fay had always felt when those eyes fell on him, since the very first time they'd met. That was why he was so angry now. Fay preferred him angry when they met like this. Kurogane knew that, too. It made things simpler when it came time to disappear again.

"Are you finished?"

So sharp with just a touch of impatience behind the heat. Fay wanted to shiver again but didn't. He played with his glass a moment longer before pushing it lightly away. Money fell on the counter immediately, leaving him nothing to do but slip off the stool and meet those dark red eyes.

"Finished," Fay smiled with his eyes closed, "for now. I like this place. I might want to come back here some day."

He never would. Not to this bar, not to this city, and probably not to the country itself. And now Kurogane would know never to look for him here again.

A hand closed over his upper arm, being very careful not to tighten. Because Kurogane was still angry. He was always more careful when he was angry. Fay smiled as he was guided out of the bar. To anyone looking on that hand was there to guide him in case he lost his way. Few would realize it was there to keep him from escaping. Kurogane was nothing if not a quick learner.

"You could hold my hand instead," Fay murmured, easing into step with him and almost leaning into his side. Kurogane stiffened and shot him a wary look. Fay gave a fond smile in return. "No one will notice us, Kuro-rin. You should know better by now."

A mocking snort. It made Fay's smile glint in his eyes. He preferred him angry when he had to leave him, but he loved him more when he was ruffled and bristling.

"Unless there's another mutant stalking you," Kurogane scoffed. "We can't be the only ones here."

"Na, you're the only stalker I have at the moment," Fay smirked, leaning firmer into his side. "Lucky you. Now that you've caught me, whatever will you do with me?"

Another silence, colder this time. Fay let his smile slip off his face. He knew that silence too well to play with it. He looked up and met Kurogane's steely gaze.

"Don't run from me." _Please._

"I won't." _I'm sorry_.

The moment lengthened until he could smile again. It was a sad, bitter smile, but it was the only one he had to give. They knew it was a lie. He wished Kurogane wouldn't ask so he wouldn't have to lie. But Kurogane always asked. There was nothing for it.

"I missed you," Fay said again, and the smile faded away. _Believe me._

"Liar." _I do._

.-.


	2. Rainbow colors

_Part 2: Rainbow Colors_

He preferred Fay when he was asleep because it meant he would still be there later, he wouldn't run until he woke up again. But he didn't like to watch. It was painful the way Fay shielded himself, wrapping his powers so tightly around himself that the markings on his back burned red at the tips. That kept him hidden, safe, and yet it was dangerous in its own way. It meant he could never sleep for very long, and that his sleep was never comfortable. He'd wake up before the burning marks spread more than a few inches inward. Kurogane was always careful not to do anything that would wake him sooner than that. So he held him, knowing that if he let go, even for a moment, he wouldn't be able to touch him again without waking him up.

He held him and memorized the markings all over again. The tattoo was black and sleek, looping and sprawling over Fay's back in graceful sweeps. He thought the shape was that of a bird more than anything, the way the edges curled at his waist like talons gripping his hips, and the wings that arced up to dip over his shoulders. There was a crest on the back of Fay's neck, half hidden by his pale blonde hair. Kurogane could still see it, though. It had been burning since Fay kissed that man in the airport, either because of the power he'd used then, or the contact itself. And he knew those scrawls were as hot to the touch as the wingtips circling Fay's upper arms. He'd seen it in the airport, and again in the bar, as clearly as he could see it now. The markings were deep red when Fay rebelled...and pitch black when he killed.

Kurogane had always seen colors. He hadn't thought anything about it as a child. His mother had called him blessed for being able to see auras, and she'd helped him to learn what the different colors meant. That was how he'd known his parents were dead long before he entered the house. The death had curdled and seeped through the cracks like smoke. He'd seen it before on the sick and the dying, and he saw it more when he got older, when he started to seek those people out. Not the sick and dying, but the ones who were healthy and still reeking of that dark aura. And he learned that the colors were much more vivid on those with powers as strong as his own.

He'd never meant to stalk mutants in particular. His mother had always told him to use his talent to help people, to protect people, and he'd adhered to that for years after her death. He was called a lot of things during that time. A vigilante because he refused to be controlled, limited, by joining a police force. A mercenary, because he was rumored to kill by request. Above all else, a mutant who killed his own kind. As if murderers who were mutants were somehow less evil than ones who were not.

He'd never killed by request, but the rumors had spread anyway, especially among mutants. Some approached him with hopes of recruiting him to their cause, something about mutants disappearing around the world to prevent rebellion, as if he had anything to do with that. He hadn't been rebelling against anything. He'd simply been striking back at the sort of people who'd ruined his life. Others had come looking to kill him, for fear they might be targeted next, or to buy him. He'd taken care of the former and, sometimes, listened to the latter. It had gotten to the point where he had trouble finding targets on his own and he hadn't known what to do when he wasn't fighting someone, protecting someone, even nameless strangers.

Fay was a mistake. Kurogane had suspected as much when the man had first come to him with a photograph and a story so outlandish he'd nearly killed him on the spot.

"I heard you can tell a murderer just by seeing him," the man had said. "If you don't believe me, all you gotta do is find him and you'd know the second you saw him, right?"

Kurogane had sneered and told him he _had _heard right. He _would_ know on sight, just like he could see the murderer standing right in front of him. The man had bolted, taking his blood money with him. But he'd left the picture.

Kurogane still had that picture. He'd thought about destroying it once, the second time Fay had run from him. He hadn't because it was beautiful. And he knew that it was the only photograph of Fay he'd ever have unless they found a way, someday, to remove the marks from Fay's back. Even then, he knew he'd never see Fay with the innocence he'd had in that photo.

It was the innocence that had made him look around. That man had brought him a photo of a child, five or six years old, and swore the kid had grown up to be a psychopath who tortured and murdered people at random, and had powers that kept him from being seen, even when he was out in the open. Kurogane hadn't believed a word of it, but he'd found himself looking at that photo again and again, a little child with trusting sky blue eyes and a shy smile, sitting crosslegged on a red carpet that brought out highlights in the golden blonde hair falling to the floor around him, and holding a tiny black kitten with hands so small Kurogane wondered if he himself had ever been that young. He'd looked at that picture and worried about the unknown child, about what would happen to him if that man found someone who _would_ take his blood money and hunt the boy down for him.

Finding Fay was too easy. Kurogane still didn't know how rare his talent really was. He knew Fay could sense things about people in a way that was similar to the auras he saw, but it wasn't the same. Fay said he smelled the death, the evil, that he felt it on his skin when he came too close to certain people, but he didn't _see_ it. Kurogane _saw_. And the more powerful a person was, the brighter and more vivid the colors. Fay was a beacon from the very first.

He saw him from a distance and the colors were so bright they stood out over the crowd. The years had changed that little boy in the picture into a willowy man who was almost too pretty to be real. His hair was shorter, but it fell around his face the same way, accentuating his features just so. His eyes were shielded, duller and yet sharper at the same time, and completely missing that trusting innocence they'd had. But the color was as pure as ever. Kurogane would have recognized him even without the impossibly strong aura surrounding him. As it was, he would have had a hard time _not_ seeing him.

The colors had caught his eye immediately, and he'd stepped back against a building so he could watch him without being pushed around by the people bustling down the sidewalk. It had been midday and the street was disturbingly crowded. Kurogane had stared and wondered, faintly, how everyone could be walking past the blonde without at least sensing the energy he had around him. There were too many colors and it was too thick. Normal people had a single sheath, different shades entwining close to their bodies, or thin and drifting away when they were sick, exhausted, or dying. Kurogane had noticed that mutants tended to have thicker auras, more colors, more layers, and more pronounced shadows. He'd never seen anyone like Fay before.

Fay didn't have layers. He had...feathers, almost, with tendrils wisping out at random as people brushed past him, as if his energy were curious and friendly, briefly taking on the different shades of those around him as they made contact before settling into a rainbow swirl. Kurogane had stared at him and thought of his mother, of the butterflies in her garden, and how she'd warned him not to try catching them with his fingers because he'd rub the dust off their wings and they wouldn't be able to fly. And then Fay had noticed him and the colors had changed so suddenly he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

That wild aura drew in sharply, like a flame sucking itself inward, and a black skeleton flared into sight. Kurogane hadn't know what he was looking at, but he'd thought of it as a skeletal outline, black marks close to Fay's body, and again, fainter, on the outside of his aura. And as the energy drew tight, those two black outlines matched until Kurogane couldn't see any color at all. That was when he'd seen the death tinting Fay a dark smoky gray. There wasn't any of the curdled evil thickness to it, but he'd recognized it immediately as being old, and nearly as heavy as his own. They'd locked eyes across the way, just one sharp moment of shock on his part, fear on Fay's. And then he'd bolted.

Kurogane never had learned exactly what it was Fay did to keep normal people from noticing him. It was too difficult to get straight answers from Fay, particularly about things like his own powers, or his past. But he'd known from that moment that Fay was somehow manipulating the entire crowd, everyone on that street, everyone but him. Because not a single person noticed when Fay darted away from him, twisting and ducking around people like a shadow. No, not a shadow, he'd moved like wind. And Kurogane had followed because he was sorry, he hadn't meant to scare him, and because he was intrigued, he'd never seen anything like him.

He'd lost him on the other side of the street when Fay had jumped, caught a ledge of the closest building and somehow flipped himself up and across the roof. His first thought was that Fay's rainbow colors should have been visible, should have been flaring into the shape of wings if he were going to fly away. His second thought was that he'd been followed, maybe even used, because there were suddenly far too many people on the other side of the street with dark auras, and he wasn't the only one moving in the direction Fay had gone. He couldn't shake the idea that he'd been used to find Fay after all, that making Fay leave the crowd had somehow made him visible to the people looking for him. And so he had more reason than ever to chase after him.

Fay didn't get far before he was brought down. Literally. Something hit him in the side of the neck and Kurogane saw him reel and fall three stories, only to land in a safe crouch on the cement below. Kurogane reached him in time to witness one of Fay's offensive powers for the first and last time. Fay dropped to his knees with his left hand curled tight over his neck and his eyes locked on the man who approached him. It wasn't the man who'd taken him down, but it was the only one in the open that Kurogane saw. Fay's right hand rose to write in the air and that skeletal outline over his aura..._pulsed_. Kurogane saw it as black and red, expanding for a brief flash of that rainbow energy beneath the outline, before locking it up tight again. The man who'd been approaching Fay was thrown back, but Kurogane suspected he was dead long before he crashed into the wall.

Silence followed and once again Kurogane had the impression he was the only one who could see Fay. That black outline was so tight against Fay's body that he wondered if it would cut into him and leave bloody trails all down his torso. Then Fay's eyes had locked with his again and he'd realized the man was crazy. He had to be because his eyes were terrified and deadly at the same time, and he was _smiling_ as if he were a few seconds away from laughing. A moment later Fay pulled his hand away from his neck and looked down at his palm. He did laugh then, but it annoyed Kurogane more than it disturbed him, because it wasn't a crazed laugh, it just wasn't an appropriate reaction from someone who'd been hunted down like an animal.

"I think I've been _poisoned_," Fay had said, with completely inappropriate amusement in his tone, and another soft little laugh. He'd looked up and smiled wider. "You're not one of _His_. Would you mind helping me to a hospital? They must have used too strong a dose because I feel like I'm dying." He laughed again and shook his head, his hand going back to his neck, and his smile lighting on Kurogane as if he were in on the joke. "Oh, but someone's going to be in _so much _trouble if this kills me."

Kurogane sometimes wondered what would have happened if Fay hadn't passed out then. If Fay had kept talking, he might have realized sooner that the man was a lunatic and decided then and there to have nothing more to do with him. As it was...

He sighed down at the fragile looking blonde sleeping beside him. Fay was crazy, but he had reason to be. Kurogane knew enough to accept that, even if it made life hell for them both. He hadn't walked away back then and now he never would. Fay was...Fay. There was no one else like him in the world and Kurogane had him. Maybe only for the night, a day, or two before Fay was compelled to run again, but he had him now and he'd hold on as long as he could. 

.-.


	3. Shadows

**Notes:** Very short part. I want to write this fic without being linear. Where they are, how they got there, where they're going from here - I've probably been reading too many drabbles, but that's how I picture this story. Moments. The next part will probably go back to when they first met instead of forward to where they're going next. I hope it's not too confusing to follow.  
_.-.__  
.-.  
Part 3: Shadows_

Fay's earliest memory was of hiding under his bed. The dust hurt his nose and it was tight and cold. And dark. He'd been afraid of the dark because there were _things_ in the dark. They whispered and tickled and they were going to tell on him for being under there. It was _bad_. He knew that and he'd crawled under there anyway. This time they'd tell and he'd really get in trouble. An arm would reach in like a snake, bite down on him, and pull him out for being _bad_. He was afraid of that, too, but he couldn't stay out there by himself because there were _monsters_ on the shelves out there. They had bright eyes in the dark and he knew they were just waiting for him to come out. They'd jump on the bed and get him under the covers.

He was hiding and listening for one of them to fall on the bed. He heard the door open and then there were bare feet, knees, and finally eyes looking in at him. The _things_ stopped whispering. He cringed back when pale hands reached toward him. He didn't want to be pulled out. But the hands were small, holding something even smaller and dark, setting it under the bed even though it was _bad _because it wasn't allowed inside at night. It mewed and walked the rest of the way to him on its own. Then he was left to hide in the dark. No arm, no tattling whispers, no forcing him back onto the bed where the _monsters_ were waiting. Just him in the dark with a little warm ball clinging tight to his shirt, like it was as scared to be alone as he'd been.

Fay couldn't remember when he'd started sleeping on his bed rather than under it. Even now, when he knew those 'monsters' had been nothing more than glassy eyed dolls on the shelves of his room, he didn't like beds. Oh, he certainly had outgrown crawling into cramped little spider-infested holes to sleep, but he preferred to sleep sitting up, with his back and side firmly against two walls. Or on the floor, stretched out on the soft carpet of an empty hotel room in a large city where no one noticed his existence. The only time he ever actually slept on a bed was when Kurogane was lying beside him. Ironic, because Kurogane was from Japan, where mats on the floor were still more common than elevated beds.

He didn't mind sleeping on a bed if he was next to him, he even preferred it. He never dreamed with Kurogane there. Memories came instead, some painful to relive, but comfortable because he knew how they would end. His dreams were the future, possibilities and fears, and he never knew what he might see when he fought his way out. There were things he didn't remember that came when he was alone, mixed with those dreams, and he preferred to believe they were all the same. With Kurogane he knew what he dreamt was real. Kurogane grounded him in reality and he was grateful for it, even when it hurt.

He knew something had disturbed him the moment he woke because he woke sharply, fully aware of everything around him. Defensive and alert. _Paranoid_, Kurogane would say. As if he'd been touched. That was wrong because Kurogane never let him go when he slept, and no one else could come close enough for that. He opened his eyes, taking in the shadows and texture of the walls. The door was still locked.

A slow chill made its way over his arms, creeping through fine hairs and leaving bumps in its wake. Scratches on the stairwell. Sneaking, cautious, and pausing. Aware that he was aware. And Kurogane was sleeping.

Fay eased out from under the heavy arm that had half curled over his back during the night. Kurogane had been looking at him again. He did that sometimes, tracing the marks with his fingers or his eyes while Fay slept, as if the tattoo were some puzzle he hoped to solve. Fay wished he wouldn't. He felt it when he woke up, a tingling sensation on every inch Kurogane had traced as if he'd marked him somehow, whether he'd physically touched him or not. He worried that it might show where his own essence didn't. Kurogane couldn't be the only one who saw colors.

Kurogane's brows tightened faintly and he made a low sound in his throat. Fay leaned close enough to brush a hand over his temple, fleeting but firm. He needed to sleep now. No reason to wake up when he was so satisfied and warm. Too comfortable to bother. Nothing mattered enough to wake him. He was exhausted. Sleep was good, he needed that.

Fay slipped off the bed. It was proof of Kurogane's exhaustion that he did little more than draw his arm close over the empty space beside him. A fond smile spread over Fay's face as he dressed. He'd never been able to hide from him the way he could with others. Kurogane was impenetrable and true. He couldn't be manipulated or controlled. But he was very tired now and Fay hoped to use that. It was for his own good.

Despite his efforts, he made it only as far as the door before he felt those eyes light on his back. Sharp and angry. But the gaze was bitter, not nearly as heated as it had been last night. He didn't like the guilty wince that passed over his face so he stood motionless, unwilling to look back until his expression had settled.

Kurogane didn't bother to rise. He just watched him and wondered why Fay was even waiting for him to speak when he was so close to the door already. It wasn't as if he could catch him before he could hit the hall and disappear. If Fay ran now, he'd at least have a head start.

"Sneaking out?"

Fay closed one hand over the doorknob and turned to smile over his shoulder, "Just stepping out for a moment. I didn't mean to wake you. You're such a light sleeper."

"_Don't_," Kurogane said sharply. "I'll find you before you make it out of the country. We might as well go together."

That was unexpectedly blunt, even for Kurogane. Fay turned his back to the door, his full attention on the man watching him. He let his smile shift into one of curious amusement. "What makes you think I'd leave the country? I could have done that yesterday, if I'd meant to. I was at the airport, after all."

Kurogane didn't answer. Fay hadn't expected him to because, really, there wasn't anything to say to that. He smiled a little wider and listened closely to the hall just outside their room. Something was waiting out there. Benign for the moment. He hoped.

"Go back to sleep, Kuro-chan," Fay murmured. "I'll be back before you know it."

Kurogane didn't respond. He didn't say a word when Fay slipped out of the room, or when he returned a few minutes later with something curled in his hand and a thoughtful expression on his face. He hadn't even moved from his prone position on the bed. Fay wondered if that meant he'd resigned himself to having him run, or if he'd actually believed him when he'd said he would come back. Either way, Kurogane caught a hand in his hair and pulled him close when he crawled onto the bed.

"Did you miss me?" Fay quipped softly. "I'm sure the bed wasn't nearly as warm without me here."

Kurogane snorted and pushed the blonde's head down onto his shoulder. "Shut up and sleep."

"But I already slept," pouted Fay. "I'm wide awake now. It's not my fault you were up doing silly things when you should have been sleeping with me."

Kurogane summarily ignored him. He was well aware of how much Fay disliked his interest in that tattoo. Fay absorbed the colors of anyone he touched, if only for a moment, and it left a detailed record of all the people he'd been in contact with. Kurogane used that sort of record to find him, but he could also use it to find anyone whose colors Fay had picked up. And if _he_ could do it, there was always the chance someone else could do it, to find Kurogane through him. As if Kurogane had any reason to hide in the first place.

What Fay didn't understand was that Kurogane had already left his mark on him. It was too late to take it back, not that he had any intention of doing so. He reaffirmed that mark every time he tracked Fay down. For someone as cynical and world-weary as Fay, he was amazingly naive when it came to simple things like the bonding that took place when two mutants had sex. No one who saw things the way Kurogane did would ever look at them without knowing exactly what sort of relationship they had. Kurogane was fine with that. What Fay didn't know, he couldn't obsess over.

Fay sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position against Kurogane's side. He wouldn't sleep again, but he didn't mind being close and warm for a few more hours.

"Say," Fay murmured, nuzzling Kurogane's neck and drawing a grumbled sound from him. "I was thinking of going on a little trip. I hear Vermont's very pretty this time of the year. Care to join me?"

Kurogane cracked an eye open to stare at the blonde hair visible just past his chin. If that was a joke, it wasn't amusing. "You serious?"

"Always."

"Sleep," said Kurogane. If Fay was still around tomorrow, he'd take the invitation seriously. For now he was just going to keep a tight hold on that blonde hair and get as much sleep as he could. "You'll need a coat," he muttered, just in case.

"Mm, we can go shopping in the morning," Fay agreed. And, maybe, he'd have a reasonable explanation thought up by the time Kurogane was awake enough to start asking questions.

.-.


	4. Perception and Control

_Part 4: Perception and Control_

There was one dream Fay had that never changed. The first time it came he knew he was dreaming, always knew, because as real as it felt there was another feeling. Cloudy, echoing, some weight that tickled in his ears that this wasn't alive, genuine, but it could have been. He wondered if maybe at the very end he'd been so lost that everything he saw and did was through a bent glass, that it all felt like a dream because he couldn't separate and see things for themselves anymore. It was horrifying and amazing because if it were true, if he'd been that far gone and still managed to walk away, then he had more inside than even he knew.

He had walked away. He never doubted that. He remembered the rain on his skin, wet and numb and dazed, and looking up for the first time. He'd been bewildered in a vague way, outside somewhere, and it was raining on him. He remembered looking up and staring at the sky as if he'd never seen it before, faintly, so faintly surprised at how common it looked. And then the rain had struck his eyes and he'd dropped just like that.

It had felt as if that sky crashed down on him and he realized he didn't know where he was, what he'd done, what he was doing, anything at all. He'd felt hollow and lost and he'd wanted to break, to just shatter under the weight of the rain. A gray stream rushed along the road beside him, little more than a trickle really, and he'd imagined the pieces of him washing away. Bits of clay scraping along the gutter, some caught on clumps of refuge, others swirling together until they hit the grate and went around and down and through, swallowed up by the dark under the street. It felt so simple but just out of reach. He'd wanted to break and wash away but couldn't.

He'd thought he was crying but he couldn't tell because everything was so wet and his eyes didn't hurt. He remembered curling up right where he'd fallen. He hadn't thought about danger or people, or anything at all. He felt he'd woken up in a tunnel gray world and there was nothing left but him and the rain and it wasn't fair that he didn't care. He wanted to care, be angry, abandoned, afraid, anything but empty. He'd curled tighter all lanky and awkward with his cheek cold and wet on the ground, just watching that stream that was little more than a trickle as it blurred and swirled its way down the grate. And he'd closed his eyes, just walk away, and seen that dream for the first time.

He'd known it was a dream because Ashura was young and Fay wasn't. How long had it been since they were children?

He was sitting somewhere dark, it was always dark, and there were glittering pieces of glass all over his lap. He'd heard the whisper of bare feet and guilt sprang up to hunch his shoulders. He knew who that was. Ashura had the lightest steps, even quieter than him, and wasn't that funny because he was the one who'd taught him to move like the wind. He hadn't looked around, just sitting tighter where he was and staring down at the piece of glass in his hand. It was long and thick, all wrapped up on one end so it wouldn't cut him when he gripped it. He'd been so careful it was hard to grip it at all, but he'd had to because he couldn't stand the sight of his own blood.

_"What are you doing, FayD?"_

He'd known he was dreaming, that something was wrong, because Ashura hadn't called him that in forever. He couldn't remember the last time he had. He'd looked around, finally, guilty and afraid, and Ashura was so young part of him cringed and protested that this wasn't real. He wanted to wake up now, please. He didn't wake up, though, he never did, he wasn't even surprised to see him so young when he wasn't.

_"I'm cutting it,"_ he whispered back, and he wasn't afraid anymore because Ashura wouldn't tell.

He turned back and sawed with that awkward piece of glass. The boy crawled over to sit beside him, plucking one of the thicker ropes of hair off his lap and staring at the mess he'd made. He looked horrified and awestruck like the time Fay had shattered every doll in his room and refused to tell anyone why. Or how...

_"Does it hurt...?"_

He told him it didn't even though it did. The glass wasn't sharp enough to cut without pulling tight and scrubbing the edge until the strands broke or ripped free. He said it because he could, and it was easy because Ashura had been so innocent at that age. He'd looked at him then, wanting to wake up right now, please wake up, because they weren't young anymore, or innocent. There was no such thing.

_"Go back to bed,"_ he'd whispered, as if everything were fine, as if he weren't talking to a boy who no longer existed and sawing off the hair he'd been growing for longer than he remembered.

_"Do mine, too. Please?"_

He flinched and sawed harder, faster, trying to outrace the guilt and fear eating away at his insides. He wasn't looking anymore, but he knew those eyes were glassy and empty but not. He knew because that boy had been dead for a long, long time. What looked out of those eyes was festering behind the glass, Him, eating his fill and watching, until there was nothing left and it was his turn. He couldn't help anyone but himself, it was too late to do anything but run and maybe too late even for that.

Those eyes were closer now and his throat closed up, pain splitting his palm as his motions grew more frantic. He didn't look. He couldn't look.

_"I can't,"_ he whispered. _"I'm sorry, so sorry, but I can't. Don't look at me. Please, just stop, stop looking at me like-"_

Then it came, cutting him off as if he'd slit his own throat, and no matter how many times he had the dream he was always caught, shocked and terrified, as if he couldn't remember what was coming, that it was always the same. A hand clamped over the back of his neck and he cried in shock, a panicky sad little whisper of no more, no more no more, and something inside him burst.

And he'd wake up, always the same, his eyes dazed and half blind from the flash, his mind unable to comprehend what had happened. If anything had. He knew it was a dream because Ashura was dead, he'd died at the age of fifteen, nothing more than a pretty shell with glassy eyes. Even if bits of the dream were part of some forgotten memory, he knew the confrontation hadn't ended the way the dream did. It couldn't have, because mere days after he'd woken in the rain he'd felt Him watching, looking for him out of the eyes of anyone. Just as he'd grown strong enough to use the mark without it controlling him, He had grown strong enough not to need to mark anyone.

Fay had suspected as much. He'd found himself hiding more and more, aware that even random strangers would sometimes turn when he was nearby, seeking something they couldn't see. He wouldn't let them see him, but he knew he was the one they were looking for. His suspicions were proven that day in the alley. He'd felt them all over, spotting the crowd around him, watching from nearby buildings, and he couldn't sense a single mark on any of them. And then the man who'd approached him finally, when he was down and cornered, he hadn't had a mark at all. Fay had hesitated for one moment, just long enough to look into the stranger's eyes and he'd seen Him looking back.

_I see you._

Even then, he hadn't meant to kill that man. He was just a puppet, some poor weak body to be used and discarded, not even worth the effort of devouring until only the shell remained.

It was a matter of control. All the problems in the world came down to control, too much control, not enough control, none at all. Humans had learned to control almost everything through technology and mutants had been born to control the rest. They could control physical things as easily as some could control the mind, the elements, even life itself. There were mutants who could heal even the most life-threatening injuries and someday, a day Fay feared more than any, there would be a mutant who could reverse death itself. When that day came he'd destroy himself so there would be nothing left to put back together, not even pieces of the shell.

It all came down to control and when he'd found himself cornered in that alley, Fay hadn't had any. Whatever they'd struck him with had taken all of his hard-earned control and tossed it away. And so he'd killed for the first time in years and the sudden backlash was like dying inside. All because some foolish misguided little man hadn't used the proper dosage of whatever drug they'd mixed up for him.

At least he'd had something left, just enough control left not to kill the dark man who came next. That one had no part of any of it. He'd known it the moment he'd seen him across the way, that he was being used but not _controlled_. He was impenetrable, he couldn't _be_ controlled. So he must have been tricked. Fay had seen it in his eyes, so confused and even guilty. It wasn't his fault. Fay knew enough about being tricked not to blame him. So he'd taken what little control he'd had left and used him to get out of the open. He couldn't control that man, but he'd hoped to manipulate him, at least a little. Take me somewhere safe, leave me there, and forget you ever saw me. When he woke in the hospital he thought it had worked. It should have.

He woke to find a man leaning over him, cool fingers and cold metal against his chest. The drug kept his reactions slow and dazed, but he understood where he was and what he needed to do. He pushed the doctor's hand away gently, his gaze soft but firm.

_He's already dead and covered. You can't help him now, and you don't know him enough to grieve over the loss. There are people here who need your help, you want to help them because you can, and you will, you want to. It's not your fault you couldn't help, whatever poison was used is something you've never encountered before, no one has, some mix of drugs that were never meant to be injected into a single body. And he was a mutant, no doctor knows how to treat them, anyway. Just walk away and help those humans who need and appreciate your efforts. It's for the better._

The doctor sighed and turned away. Fay watched him go with a faint smile. He liked people like him. They cared, they honestly did, and it hurt them when they couldn't help. If he'd thought that man could have countered the poison, Fay might have let him try, even if it meant staying in one place long enough that someone might notice him. Because even though he'd made it easy for the doctor to put this aside and go on, he couldn't make the man forget entirely. Fay never pushed hard enough to change a person's morals, and that man believed it was morally wrong to forget patients he'd been unable to help. He couldn't help them all, but he believed he was obligated to try and to remember when he failed. Yes, Fay liked people like him. Far too much.

His body hurt when he slid off the bed. It still felt as if he were dying, acid in his veins that flowed in to stutter his heart and then up to twist in his brain. Alarming in a blurry way. Fay winced and smiled and pushed aside the need to vomit or scratch at his wrists. None of that would help. He'd have to bleed it to get it out and this really, really wasn't the place for that sort of thing. Whatever it was, it affected his powers more than anything. He was a danger to everyone around him right now. No doctor would be able to help, and he'd likely lash out and kill any who tried without meaning to. Being in a crowded hospital was good for throwing off stalkers, but he'd have to find some privacy before he took care of himself.

He found his shoes and coat near the bed. They must have been in a hurry to admit him. There were too many people in hall. Fay kept close to the wall and did his best to ignore that. He concentrated on being unimportant, insignificant, and normal. In the beginning he'd had to reinforce that sort of push by humming under his breath, or looking into the eyes of as many people as possible, brushing or making physical contact with the rest. He'd gotten better with time and now a simple calm focus was enough to convince people that he was no more significant than a wet spot on the floor. Don't step on it, but don't worry about it, either.

His sights were set on a light above double doors at the end of the hall, one of those convenient signs that were sure to read 'Exit' no matter what language they were written in. He was nearly there when he felt eyes snap to him and burn tight. His first thought was that he'd lost his concentration and that was why someone had noticed. His second thought was that he couldn't do anything in this crowded hall without hurting someone who'd only come here to be healed or to help those in need. He tensed and looked back over his shoulder, one hand curling against the wall he'd been following like a guide line in a cave.

_I see you._

Stop it. Fay wasn't sure if he'd said it aloud or not. His barriers snapped up and he narrowed his focus on instinct. Stop it, don't look at me, don't see me, I don't want to hurt you, I don't-

Then a hand was holding his shoulder, touching him, and everything snapped back into focus. Fay inhaled and coughed so quickly it must have sounded like a hiccup. It was that dark man from the alley, black clothes, dark feeling around him, black hair, dark glower, and dark impossible red eyes that saw. Could see right through him.

"You," Fay managed, a sickly smile struggling to take over his face and failing. "What are you doing still here...?"

"What the hell?" the man growled. He sounded angry, but he looked more confused and relieved than anything. "That guy said you died on the table - nothing they could do..."

Fay swallowed and the smile won its battle, hiding the prickly cold nervousness that was spreading fast under his skin. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him. And this man was dangerous because he could _see_, and they'd followed him once, they could be there now, just waiting for him to come out of the building. Even if he couldn't be controlled, they could still use him, or kill him for not being useful enough. Fay felt responsible and apathetic at the same time. Was it his fault? He was still touching him, holding his shoulder and waiting for some sort of explanation. Fay wanted to run away.

"Did he really say that?" Fay asked, his voice high and surprised, and maybe more panicky than he liked. "He must have been confused. As you can see, I'm fine now. Thank you for being such a good Samaritan, but there was no need for you to stay just because you were the one to drop me off here. I'm sure you have more important things to-"

"Shut up."

The man turned to look over the people around them, his eyes narrow and suspicious. Fay stopped talking. He didn't feel as cornered without that stare being directed at him, but the hand remained, fingers pressing through his clothes and skin until they were firm against bone. If that grip tightened just a hair it would hurt him and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from lashing out in response.

Fay brushed his fingers over that hand and smiled when the man snapped back around to frown at him. "You're bruising me. I'd rather you didn't."

The man pulled away with a sharply muttered apology. Then he frowned at him again. "What was going on back there? And how are you - what are you doing to these people?" He jerked his head to the strangers in the hall. "Why do I get the feeling I'm the only one who can see you?"

"Because you are?" Fay asked, as if they were playing a guessing game.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I," Fay smiled. "As for what was going on in that alley, well, I could ask you the same question. Why were you following me? It was nice of you to bring me here, but I hardly expected you to wait around to accost me on my way out. I can't decide if you're a good Samaritan or a stalker in disguise."

That frown was turning into an outright scowl, wrinkles between the man's eyebrows that were almost cute. If Fay hadn't felt like he was a few minutes from burning up inside or passing out again, he would have laughed at the sight of him.

He eased closer to the man and told him in a confiding whisper, "I'm leaning toward stalker, myself. That security man at the end of the hall thinks so, too. He's thirty seconds away from rescuing me from that dark manhandling meanie. Best bet to avoid that? Walk away like a gentleman."

The man straightened with a fiery expression on his face. Fay found it adorable despite the circumstances. He saw him shoot a look at the uniformed man Fay had warned him of. Sure enough, the guard was staring quite a bit. Fay hadn't mentioned that the man was staring because Tall Dark and Intimidating had been - as far as the guard knew - threatening a blank wall and talking to himself. Fay used the distraction to slide away.

He was followed out of the hospital. He'd expected that. Whoever the would-be stalker was, he seemed to be dripping with stubborn curiosity. Fay knew he'd have to deal with that eventually. For now he simply extended his push so the man was as nondescript as him. He couldn't manipulate him, but he'd could make certain no one noticed either of them. That would have to do until he found an isolated spot to fix his little control problem.

Poison. The very idea of it made him want to smack someone for being stupid. Clearly paying people to look for him was a bad idea. Fay thought He should have figured that out the last time they'd tried to disable him with an illicit substance. They'd tainted the entire water supply of an innocent little town and Fay wouldn't have even known about it if he hadn't seen news reports of it a few days later. He'd been in an entirely different county by then.

At least this time they'd limited it to him alone. He thought he had that dark stalker of his to thank for that much. He still wanted to smack the idiot who'd given him a drug that made him liable to kill anyone who threatened him. As tired as he was, he missed the old days when hired thugs had approached him openly. They'd fight and lose and Fay would disappear without adding another unnecessary death to his count. Poison. Really. Even kidnappers were lazy these days.

"I'm getting too old for this," Fay sighed, as he pushed open a dingy door and left it wide behind him.

The building was musty and stale and just the sort he'd been looking for. He knew it because he could smell and almost feel it on his arms - drugs, rape, murder, and a good dose of mutilation and dismemberment. The perfect private setting for some blood-letting. He dropped bonelessly to the floor and sent a tired smile at the dark shadow that slipped in after him.

"Hey, there, Tall Dark and Intimidating," Fay called. "Please close the door behind you."

"Kurogane," the man snapped, looking annoyed at the off-handed greeting. Or maybe he was annoyed at being led halfway across town. Who knew.

"Mm," Fay smiled, "how fitting. Fay, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Steel, Kuro-san. And now we've been properly introduced. You have a knife?"

.-.


End file.
